


No Rest for the Wicked

by HammerToFall_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-11-19
Updated: 2002-11-19
Packaged: 2018-12-15 17:56:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11811237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HammerToFall_Archivist/pseuds/HammerToFall_Archivist
Summary: By Frankie LyndonVignette of Carnell as he escapes Space Command.





	No Rest for the Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> Note from oracne, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Hammer to Fall](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hammer_to_Fall), a Blake’s 7 archive, which has been offline for several years. To keep the works available for readers and scholars, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after June 2017. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Hammer to Fall collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HammerToFall/profile).
> 
> originally published in THE BIG B7 ZINE (1993)

Gazing out the shuttle's view port, Carnell watched as the circular space station faded into the distance. Another chapter of his life closed; another "safe harbor" revealed as a trap and abandoned.

Sighing, the blond psychostrategist turned from the port and settled more comfortably into his chair. It was time to make plans...new plans. The old strategies, the ones that pivoted around using Servalan and her desire to run the Federation, had to be discarded as worthless. That fiasco with the Beta-grade technician, the Delta slave, and IMIPAK had cancelled all hopes for finding himself in a position of power within the new Federation when the dust of the old had settled.

Now the realities of the drastically altered situation must be faced. Carnell was an advocate of facing realities, no matter how unpalatable. It was the only way to be prepared for a situation, to master it. It all came down to control. And the primary way the man retained control was to always expect and plan for the unexpected.

Carnell was never without a contingency plan; no self-respecting psychostrategist would be caught otherwise. However, in this particular case, the contingency plan was weak at best. But the puppeteer had been so certain that everything would follow the primary strategy as he'd laid it out for Servalan...with a few very personal twists. Carnell always made certain his strategies included something that would benefit him in some way. He'd learned in the school of experience that it was the only way to ensure those who profited from his labors did not forget their gratitude once they'd achieved their goals. As a result, he was a very wealthy man with money cached in a dozen different accounts under a dozen different names. Only at this moment, with Servalan and most of the Federation out for his head, getting his hands on any of those accounts was impossible. He'd just have to manage on his skill and cunning for the time being.

Sighing deeply, Carnell glanced about the second class cabin. Hardly what he was used to, but then, a man on the run for his life couldn't afford to be choosy. Shifting irritably, the man rose from his suddenly uncomfortable chair and began to pace the claustrophobic confines of the tiny cabin. His options at this point seemed rather limited. He could no longer work for the Federation. Servalan, despite the soon-to-be disgrace with IMIPAK, had far-reaching influence and could turn a great number of very powerful people against him. She would be able to find him regardless of where he hid...if he hid within the Federation. No, his only viable option was to seek sanctuary with the Rebellion.

Carnell had no moral or ethical qualms about this decision. He hadn't been working for the Federation because he'd particularly liked the administration or believed in their politics. No, he'd chosen to side with Servalan because, at the time, she'd seemed like the clear winner. And Carnell always threw in his lot with winners. Now the victor in this battle did not seem so clear. Perhaps, with his help, the rebellion could succeed. And Gods knew at this point the Federation was out of the question.

The only question was where to head. Which planet should he choose? Which cell of rebels was to be granted the benefit of his brilliant mind and far-reaching strategies? With a characteristic lack of modesty, the blond mentally acknowledged that whomever he chose to work for would benefit greatly. With the edge Carnell's genius would provide, that band of rebels was destined to enjoy unparalleled success and power.

For a moment the psychostrategist considered taking his more than generous offer to his old school chum, Kerr Avon. While his insight assured him that Servalan's immediate plans for Avon and the Liberator's crew would be aborted, he could foresee nothing but hardships and failures ahead for the Alpha. Reluctantly, Carnell admitted that the ability to predict these future traps, and thereby avoid them, could mean the difference between success and defeat, perhaps even between life and death, for the other man. But could he ally himself with his longtime rival?

He and Avon had not been close at school, but he had always respected and appreciated the dark Alpha's intelligence. To stand by and watch the tech hounded and eventually defeated by Servalan and her minions was difficult in the extreme. Especially if his intervention could possibly prevent it. But if there was one thing Carnell prided himself on, it was his impeccable understanding of human nature. Avon's greatest weakness was pride. He would not be told that his decisions, present and future, were flawed. And he certainly would not appreciate being informed that the only way to save himself was to unquestioningly follow the direction of another. Particularly when that other was a fellow Alpha whom he'd always seen as an intellectual rival.

Sighing again and collapsing gracefully into another uncomfortable chair, Carnell acknowledged that taking his skills to the  _Liberator_  was not an option. But there were plenty of other rebel cells that would not question or resent the gift that was about to be dropped in their laps. All that remained was to choose a planet and choose a group. The rest would follow easily and naturally, as it always did. That had always been the nature of his existence. One door after another had been opened by his brilliant mind and charming good looks. And that suited him perfectly. After all, why should one work any harder than was strictly necessary?

the end


End file.
